Of Bombs, Best Friends and Breakfast
by Cortexikid
Summary: "What's the matter, Marshall? Don't like me taking you for a ride?" Mary grinned smugly. Marshall leaned in close to her then, their lips an inch apart. "No," he answered, not missing a beat, "I don't like it when you stop." M/M. Complete.


**Of Bombs, Best Friends and Breakfast**

**By Cortexikid**

**Disclaimer: In Plain Sight is not mine *sniffles***

**A/N: So, I was asked to do another of these by the wonderful Michelle285…I aim to please =] Note: these drabbles aren't as cheerful as my usual ones…I guess I was in more of an angst kinda mood. Hope you enjoy anyway!**

**Rules of Challenge:**

**1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.**

**2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.**

**3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. **

**4. Do at least 5 of these, then post them.**

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* * *

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**Crash and Burn – Savage Garden**

His legs buckled, his body crumpling with rapid force like paper in a hurricane to the ground.

It was happening again…and just like before, he was powerless.

She wasn't breathing…an explosion this time; it wracked her body with selfish greed and mighty determination.

He saw cuts, bruises, marks that would surely scar…and she wasn't breathing.

He was there, a difference to before. And part of him, a miniscule fraction, wished he wasn't if only to get the gut-wrenching, tear-jerking, horror-inducing image of her flying through the air as the car bomb hit and knocked her off her feet out of his mind. Despite his best wishes though, that image was permanently etched into his brain.

It was the smell that hit him first, when he had regained consciousness seconds later.

The foul, lingering smell of burning fresh.

_Oh please, God, don't let it be her._

It couldn't be her. It just couldn't be. Not again. Not now, not ever. She…she had to be okay. She just had to be because…because she was Mary Shannon. She was tough as nails, confident, determined, strong, smart, passionate, intense, fiery, kicking-ass-in-the morning-and-taking-names-in-the-evening Mary Shannon. She did not die from bullets, knives, bombs or anything else bat-shit crazy bad guys could throw her way.

She was too damn stubborn for that.

But sadly, it was her.

"NO!" a torturous yell ripped from the man's throat as he pushed himself roughly off the ground (ignoring his body's serious protests) and ran towards her, dropping to his knees beside her, tearing off his jacket and using it to extinguish the small flame that latched to her pant-leg.

"Breathe, Mary! Breathe!" he practically yelled, cradling her head in his lap, smoothing back the golden hair off her ashen face.

When he got no reaction, he took matters into his own hands, even if she'd murder him later.

Quickly, desperately, he leaned down and placed his lips on hers, holding her nose and cradling her jaw as he breathed into her mouth.

She wasn't leaving him, she couldn't. She was…his _everything_. She wouldn't just…_die_…would she?

_No._ She wouldn't. Not if he had anything to say about it.

"Breathe, Mare…come on, come back…_to me_," he whispered, the last two words almost inaudible as he kept up CPR, relieved to hear sirens in the distance.

Suddenly, after three agonizing minutes, a cough shook her body and Marshall jumped, panicked, startled, as she rolled onto her side and took in frantic gasps of air.

He beamed, elated as she hungrily stole oxygen from their close quarters and raised her head to stare him in the eye.

"Marsh…Marshall…" she gasped, gripping the front of his shirt with her fists as her relieved, almost-tender gaze met his.

He grinned down at her, tears stinging the back of his eyes, dangerously close to the surface.

"Yeah, Mare?" he asked tenderly, barely refraining himself from cupping her cheek or…kissing her senseless.

Her eyes flickered as she looked like she were about to make a serious proclamation. Marshall leaned forward, eagerly awaiting her words.

"You're kneeling on my badge."

He couldn't contain his relieved (if a little disappointed) laughter at her oh-so-Mary-like response.

Yep…she was going to be okay.

* * *

**Flux – Bloc Party **

The wind swirled in circles, its powerful gusts gathering leaves and twigs and dust up in its weaving, widening whirls as the monstrous engine roared into the darkness, speeding down the bare, desolate road.

Blonde tresses of hair swung in the breeze as the music blared louder and louder from the radio, hands gripping the wheel with an eager squeeze. Rapid heartbeats burst to life in ear drums as blood raced through veins almost in time to the beat of the music.

Smiles graced the faces of the driver and passenger as the regarded one another, their eyes meeting for a fraction of a second, each connecting in a way that neither had before. It was fresh and new and exhilarating. And maddening and terrifying and heart-stopping.

The speed, the freezing cold, the darkness, the loudness of all of it, intense and wonderful…

Until she slammed on the breaks.

"WOAH!" came a shout from reddened lips and ashen cheeks as the screech of their sudden halt jolted them a little out of their seats.

"Mary! What the hell?" the voice continued, a little angrily, as the force of gravity pushed their bodies back into the seats as the car came to a full stop.

The music had stopped too. Leaving almost-complete silence, the frantic pulse of their hearts all being heard in the dead of the night.

Mechanical, teasing, laughter suddenly erupted from the driver's throat as they looked at their partner with shinning uniquely-coloured orbs that bounced against the moonlight.

"What's the matter, Marshall? Don't like me taking you for a ride?" Mary asked, her voice alight with sexual suggestion.

Marshal leaned in close to her then, their lips an inch a part.

"No," he answered, not missing a beat, "I don't like it when you stop."

* * *

**9 Crimes – Damien Rice (I admit it, I actually listened to this nearly twice to get it finished, I can type fast, but not **_**that **_**fast =[)**

He pulled her flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist as she stood on her tip-toes, pressing her lips to his in a soft but passionate kiss.

To any outsiders, they looked like a typical loved-up couple. Stupid, goofy smiles plastered on their faces as they parted for breath but didn't pull away from each other. They had to stay connected, they craved each other like the desert craved water and a child craved candy…a balance of intense and sweet _love_ that was both breath-taking and truly sickening to witness.

Especially for her. Especially for Mary Shannon.

Quickly and quietly, she closed the ajar door; jaw clenched with an emotion that she was neither willing nor brave enough to acknowledge and went in search of something, anything alcoholic.

Marshall Mann had never been the type to share too much of his personal life (a common trait of WITSEC inspectors) but this was something that he could not control. After all, she was his…_girlfriend_ and…she had every right to be here. Even if it physically (possibly) or mentally (definitely) harmed him to allow her to be.

"Come on, honey, we better get back to the party," she giggled, pecking his lips once more time before winking at him and squeezing his butt a little.

He gave her a gentle mock-shove, throwing her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be right out…_sweetheart._ Just…give me a minute…" he murmured, not looking her directly in the eye. If he had, he would have seen a look of disappointment on the brunette's face before it transformed into a smug, playful smirk.

"Oooh, I get it…" she practically sang, dragging her eyes down his body, "you uh—need a minute to…_calm down_?"

It took Marshall a moment to understand what she was implying and when he did, his cheeks flushed (one, at her suggestion and two because she was very, very wrong) and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Uh…something like that. Just—I'll meet you out there, okay?"

If she had a suspicion of something being wrong, she didn't show it, merely offering him a small smile before sauntering out, swinging her hips seductively as she exited his study, leaving him entirely alone with nothing but his thoughts.

As soon as the door snapped shut, Marshall's calm exterior crumpled as he immediately began to fidget and pace back and forth frantically, running his hands through his hair.

This had gotten out of hand. So terribly out of hand. It was never meant to go this far. She was never meant to fall for him. She was never meant to be so nice and caring and beautiful and smart. He was never supposed to get out of his funk. He was never supposed to think about being with any woman other than Mar– but then, then he found out about Mexico and Faber and…and his world all went to hell.

He gave up. He gave up on her. He did the one thing he always said he wouldn't do. He lost hope…as soon as he heard about her and that FBI agent lovin' it up on vacation after what he practically admitted to her in the office, he finally decided that enough was enough. He couldn't keep torturing himself. He had to try and find some happiness…even if it felt like he'd only ever be happy with her and no one else.

Until he met Lyla.

And now…before he knew what was happening…tonight was beginning and he could do nothing to stop it.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door, startling Marshall out of his reverie. Begrudgingly, he halted his pacing and made his way over to the door and flinging it open.

"Marshall, there you are! Everyone's waiting on you man, come on," the young and enthusiastic (also half drunk) Charlie hollered, pulling him down the hallway with surprising strength. Before the taller of the two could regain his stream of thought, he found himself standing in the middle of his living room with a throng of people looking at him expectantly, drinks in their hands, gifts on the table and music playing softly in the background.

"Honey, finally, okay everyone, we're both here," Lyla giggled heartily, grabbing Marshall's hand and pausing, seemingly waiting for something.

Marshall only had to wait a matter of seconds before he realized what was going on. A large, white-frosted cake appeared out of nowhere and was laid down on the table in front of him and the brunette at his side. With a frown, he silently read what was written in chocolate:

_Congratulations On Your Engagement, _

_Marshall & Lyla!_

His heart painfully skipped a beat as it all finally hit him like a ton of bricks. He was engaged. Engaged to Lyla and not –

Slowly, he raised his eyes and was met with the ones he wanted to see more than anything in the world. She was looking at him, her beautiful face void of all emotion and yet he knew, just knew, that inside, she was not okay. She was worse than not okay.

_She's just your partner, Marshall. That's all. She made that clear when she ran off with Faber. She didn't want messy…doesn't want messy, you deserve to be happy, Lyla will make you happy…_

_Liar! _Another voice suddenly erupted in his mind as he held his partner's gaze.

_Who the hell are you trying to kid, Marshall?_

Who was he trying to kid? He wasn't this guy, he didn't string along perfectly caring women just because he was nursing a broken heart.

And yet, he was engaged, to another woman! Granted, she did propose to him and he never actually said yes but…everything had gotten out of his control.

_You did nothing wrong…_his own voice reassured him silently as his partner finally broke his gaze, looking away. _Are those tears in her eyes? No…Mary Shannon doesn't cry…especially over me…I did nothing wrong…I did nothing wro- _

He heard a scoff reverberate in his skull.

_Oh really? You did nothing wrong? Then why the hell does it feel like you've just cheated on the most important woman in your universe?_

_Damn._

_

* * *

_

**My Best Friend – Weezer (Established M/M)**

He held out the napkin for her to read.

_I, Mary Shannon, hereby swear that if neither I nor Marshall Mann are married in five years from this exact date, then I shall marry him._

Below Marshall's chicken scratch, lay Mary's signature, albeit a little more sloppy than usual.

"Marshall, clearly I was drunker than Stan at last year's Christmas shindig when I signed your stupid, little, overly-worded napkin. Surely that makes this null and void?"

Marshall beamed a little dopily at her from behind his scotch glass.

"You're the one that signed, Mare. Not me…" he snorted, wagging his finger at her as he lay back on her couch.

In a flash, her hand latched out and bent back as finger as far as it would go.

Over his yelps of protest, she grinned:

"Marshall, why the hell do you even still have this? Obviously we were both shit-faced and stupid as hell! It's not like we could ever seriously…I mean, not only do we have a crazy-ass job to begin with but…it's not like the Marshal Service allows partners to hook up, never mind get frickin' married!"

"Wow…you've really given this a lot of thought, huh?"

"Says you, Mr. Napkin."

The two partners looked at each other, realizing that their somehow 'just kidding around' hypothetical situation had gained substance…had actually been considered. They had only been (semi-secretly) dating a little over a year when Marshall remembered the little wager Mary signed five years ago after they both got smashed and started feeling sorry for themselves. He only meant it as a joke, but now…

Mary still held Marshall's finger (although not as harshly anymore) as she leant over him, pressing him into her couch.

"You're my best friend."

"I know."

"My only friend."

"I know that too."

Slowly and without their direct knowledge the two were inching closer and closer together.

"So, you understand, us together, as husband and…_wife_, would be crazy!"

"Totally crazy," he agreed before Mary threw caution to the wind and closed the space between them, crashing her lips into his.

So, it wasn't marriage, yet, but Mary and Marshall both knew she was never the type to go back on her word.

* * *

**Air Tap! – Erik Mongrain (Established M/M, this was difficult as there are no lyrics in this song)**

"What do you mean no, Doofus?" she practically snarled, nudging him in the ribs.

"Ow!" Marshall rubbed the spot on his chest where she poked him.

"Oh suck it up, Daisy…tell me, why 'no'?"

He sighed, putting his hands behind his head and glancing up at the ceiling, ignoring the feel of her teeth nipping his chest.

"Mare, I just…I don't think you should get a maid, do I need a reason?"

She nipped him again, her lips raking against his bare shoulder.

"Yes, dumbass, you do. What's your aversion to me getting a little help around the house? Worried I'll run off with the pool boy?"

He turned to her then, his blue eyes shinning brightly. Slowly, he clasped her waist with one hand and wound the other in her flaxen hair.

"Nope, the pool boy would just grate on your nerves…and sure as hell couldn't please you like I can…"

Her eyebrow raised.

"Oh, someone's sure of themselves. Okay, well if it isn't that then, why?"

"Because," he murmured, "then you'd have someone else to cook you breakfast and fetch your paper and I'd feel obsolete," he joked but Mary could swear that she heard a little hint of _something_ in his tone.

"Aww, poor Marshall, does someone need their ego stroked?" she asked, running her hand down his bare chest, nipping at his neck.

He craftily turned his head and clasped her lips with his. Mary's heart-beat sped up indefinitely as his tongue licked her bottom lip, begging for entrance. Unfortunately for Marshall, however, she wasn't finished talking yet.

"Well…" she murmured, breaking the kiss and placing her finger on his mouth, "I suppose if I had you here to do all the things a maid would do and please me in the only way you can then I wouldn't have to hire a maid…" she trailed off, biting her lip as her true intention began to shine through.

Her partner's eyes grew wide as he realized what she was saying.

"Mare are you—are you asking me to…_move in _with you?"

Her breathing hitched as she tried to calm herself._ C'mon Mare, it's just Marshall. You can do this._

"Well, way I see it Doofus, I could get used to the idea…you know, that way I won't get sued when I try to exchange breakfast making and laundry doing for sexual favours instead of money…"

Marshall laughed, pulling her closely back to him.

"And how do you know I won't be the type to ask for sexual favours?"

Mary grinned devilishly.

"Well, that's something we'll just have to figure out then won't we?"

**A/N: So, I don't like this one as much as I like my others but meh, it'll do. I hope you guys enjoyed. And I know "9 Crimes" and "My Best Friend" are more than likely implausible but the plot bunnies don't speak sense...just like Mary :)**

**A review would be lovely **


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